


Our Circumstances of Being

by kenzieann27



Series: Short Story Stuff [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzieann27/pseuds/kenzieann27
Summary: Vincent goes to prom!(a sequel of sorts to To Be Normal - wish me luck this year at my school's writing contest!)
Series: Short Story Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547146
Kudos: 2





	Our Circumstances of Being

**Author's Note:**

> I'm uh way more active on Tumblr - come and say hi! @kenzie-ann27
> 
> Also, thanks for even reading this, I know original works aren't exactly too popular on this site!

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, being a sophomore that was asked by a senior to go to prom, though I knew from the moment I was asked that it was unusual due to my rather unique situation as well as the fact that I was asked the day before the annual event at the school. I had only talked to my date a few times before being asked to the Senior Prom; my older brother, Jude, was mostly to blame for me being asked at all. He was a genius with a paintbrush (or so I’ve heard, as I’ve never actually been able to witness these pieces with my two unworking eyes) and was recruited that particular spring to repaint the logos on the softball and baseball dugouts after school. Being the exceptional brother that I was, I opted to stay and aid tremendously with this task by stirring the paint as well as occasionally providing the much-needed distraction by flicking the paint-coated stirring stick at Jude, earning me a mouthful of obscenities that I was too familiar with.

We were put to this task for a week, though it became vastly more interesting on the third day when I could hear a dozen new voices through my headphones as I sat on the cold bleachers. Though as a whole they became clearer when I pulled the headphones away and set them down next to me, they remained still nothing more than an amalgamation of voices, none of which I could recognize. Starting to doubt that my brother was still existent in this sea of people, I called out to him.

“They’re just here for practice, Vincent. I’m finished with painting for today, so I’m just cleaning up and then we can go home. Tomorrow we’ll get to work on the baseball dugout, which is a lot more work since we- and I mean you- get to scrape off wads of gum and clean the siding before I can paint anything.”

“If you’re turning me into your personal assistant, does that mean I get to drive you home?”

“The only driving you’ll ever do is driving people insane, and you do that tenfold, bud.”

After directing a sarcasm-filled bit of laughter at Jude, I turned my attention back to my headphones, which I began to wrap around my Walkman as I waited for my brother to return from putting away his painting supplies. I gripped the device tighter when I felt someone clamber across the metal bleachers in front of me, mostly due to the sudden noise rather than that I was actually frightened (or so I tell myself when I replay this moment in my head).

“Cool sunglasses.”

I turned my head towards my right to face the person talking to me, feeling instantly intrigued by the voice, which I tried to dissect from those two simple words. It was a very pleasant voice, one that caused my cheeks to flush. I painted a picture of this person in my mind quite rapidly, as I saw a person that was beautiful despite a few rough edges. Their voice told me this about them, for it was a bit gravelly, but at the same time, I wanted to hear more.

“Thanks, you too.” I felt my face heat up, a nervous chuckle just barely escaping through my lips, “I mean, not that I would know if you’re wearing sunglasses. But if you were, that would be a crazy coincidence. I guess a lot of people wear sunglasses outside so it’s not that crazy, though. I don’t really wear them just to make me look cool, obviously.” I gestured vaguely towards my eyes, towards those unseeing objects that, while useless to me, provided the same use to others: a window into myself, a window that I consistently kept hidden for fear of what they might find there. Shaking away those thoughts, I took a short breath during my anxious ramble. “But don’t go around telling people that, I can’t have them thinking that I am actually not a perfect picture of coolness.”

With that, I heard a coarse laugh, one full of the same amount of joy that I felt just by hearing it. I dropped my hand back down to my side, fidgeting awkwardly with one of the loose threads of my shirt.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I think Jude’s got you figured out though.”

“Jude’s just about as cool as the Sahara, so I won’t lose any sleep over that one.”

My head turned instinctively when I heard a handful of names being shouted, one of which- Hurwitz- was repeated several times before I felt the stranger next to me step down a row of the bleachers before hopping off them completely.

“That would be me. Hurwitz, I mean. Thomas Hurwitz, though most people just call me Tommy. I think it’s weird when people call me Thomas.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad of a name, Vincent isn’t exactly any better. What’s the point of being named after an artist when I can’t even see the stuff he’s done?”

“I gotta go before he makes us practice another hour. Coach is getting crabby ‘cause I’m missing practice. Which is ridiculous, making us practice the week before prom. I’m supposed to be out finding some glittery dress or something. ‘Do you think this blue matches my eyes?’”

It was my turn to laugh, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was laughing at; whether it was what Tommy was saying or how it was said. I could hear him walking away, judging by the sound of footsteps in the gravel growing distant, but that smile on my face remained there no matter how hard I bit at my lip or how hard I tried to hide it behind my hand. That smile stayed plastered on my face for what felt like an eternity before my brother finally returned.

When Tommy asked me to go to the prom with him two days later, I felt like I could barely breathe. Of course, I mean that in the best possible way. Even though he made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal, through those two days my thoughts of it evolved in such a quick fashion that I wasn’t sure I was processing the information correctly. It had started with me replaying that handful of words that he sputtered out to me and quickly evolving to accepting the fact that yes, I, Vincent Bodenstein, had developed a crush on the school’s star pitcher (his left-handedness proved useful in the position). But at the same time, I felt a bit of regret when Tommy had asked me to go to the prom with him as his date despite it being something that I wanted to accept without any hesitation and with great enthusiasm. We wouldn’t arrive together, which was fine with me, as Tommy had made plans with some of his friends beforehand; however, this would also be somewhat of an ideal situation for me, as my parents were unaware of this current development in my life. I felt somewhat guilty for this whole endeavor, though, as Tommy and I would be doing this event together, purposefully, and I had allowed it by agreeing to go. I couldn’t see the looks on all those faces in that gymnasium, but I would understand that feeling nonetheless.

I thought these things over as I stood outside my mom’s minivan next to the school, her hands smoothing out every last crease in my cropped pants. I had asked my mom earlier that day to pick out my outfit for the event, something she greeted with immense enthusiasm as she hadn’t been asked to do such a thing since I was 12; since then, she most likely had to watch me wear the most color-clashing outfits possible, though I do respect the space she had given me. According to her, I was wearing a dark pair of jeans and a brown cable knit sweater which matched- and I quote from her- “super cutely” with my dad’s derby shoes. I kept the sweater tucked into my pants and the sleeves pushed up to my elbows, mostly because the sweater felt like it was about two sizes too big for me.

“Mom, it’s fine. No one’s going to notice the wrinkles on my pants. I know I won’t.”

“You might not appreciate it now, Vincent, but all the other boys in there have spent a very long time making sure their outfits look nice. What kind of girl asks someone to prom the day before? Are you sure you weren’t asked last month and just forgot to tell me?”

I groaned at my mom’s questions, swatting away her hand as I started walking towards the school; I had walked through the doors to the gym enough times to know exactly where I was going and how long it would take me to get there. It had been almost eight months since my parents let me continue school at a regular high school, not that being homeschooled wasn’t all bad, but I wanted to be treated like a normal person and experience all the normal-person things. At the same time, though, I couldn’t help but wonder anxiously if it was normal for two guys to go to Prom as dates. Still, here I was, making my way to the prom. Jude and his girlfriend of the last year, Kimmy Zhou (or Zoey, as everyone knew her), decided to go to the event with a group of their friends, which left me arriving alone.

I waded my way through the human ocean as my ears searched for a recognizable voice, though all I was able to make out was the music that blared out around me. Making my way to what I guessed was the end of the crowd, judging by the fact that my hands no longer brushed up against people but rather a cold brick wall. I turned and pressed my back up against it, feeling some of the threads of my sweater stick to the rough surface. Though it felt like hours had gone by, only a few songs had been played through when I felt my brother’s familiarly small hand grab my shoulder.

“Jude?”

“Yeah, come on, let’s go outside. I can barely hear anything in here.”

I nodded as his hand moved to grab my wrist, dragging me along before I felt a cool breeze hit my cheeks as Jude let go of my arm.

“I’ve got to take Zoey home. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

I nodded before saying anything, as I was appreciating the cool air and the overall less overwhelming feel of the sidewalk outside of the school. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, she just hurt her ankle when we were dancing. I’ll be back in like 15 minutes, alright?” He paused, taking in my current situation. “I’ll go find Tommy for you, I’m sure he’ll want to dance with you at some point.”

Instinctively, I nodded at the offer. Still, though, I could feel my face contort into an expression of complete confusion. I knew that this event was a dance, obviously, and that people danced together. Homecoming was in the fall, and I had gone to that event as well, but already the experiences were completely different; prom was different; more serious, somehow. Jude picked up on my overwhelmed state, sighing as he put his hand on my shoulder for the second time that night. However, this time it came with an extra weight that I neither understood nor wanted.

“Hey, you’ll be alright. Just stay here, okay? I’ll go find him for you.”

Even after I heard Jude walk away, that weight remained there; however, it had moved from my shoulder to my chest. I don’t remember exactly how much time passed or how I ended up sitting on the sidewalk, but I do remember that weight. I knew who I was, I knew who Tommy was, but at the same time, I didn’t fully understand what we were. I knew that Tommy had a voice that cracked often, one that was somehow always thick with sleep; that his sport was baseball; that after two days, he decided that he wanted to go to his prom with me. It wasn’t my blindness that I was afraid would ruin the experience, but rather something else entirely. Despite these modern times, in this small town, we would never be able to be greeted lightly, and deep down, I had known this moment would come. Before, Tommy was simply a friendly stranger, someone that invited me to a harmless event. I hadn’t attached any expectations, any intentions to the invitation because I was not aware of them. All of a sudden, though, Tommy meant something a lot more, something that I didn’t even know that I wasn’t ready to confront.

I tossed my glasses down at the ground, rubbing at my eyes; partly out of exhaustion, though also to hide the tears that began to form. As I heard someone shoving the door open next to me, I quickly and haphazardly wiped at my face, hoping that whoever it was didn’t notice that I was there. I heard the footsteps approaching me, and I remained frozen. Jude had said he would find Tommy for me, but this felt too soon, and I felt too unready. I knew he was standing in front of me, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel as if he was a million miles away. Eventually, I held up my hand and waited for nothing. I could feel my cold, clammy hand shaking, my calloused fingertips grasping at nothing but the empty air as my left hand instinctively flew up to my cheek to wipe away the tears that were half-dried there. Though it was a voice I wanted, I received a lot more when a soft, warm left hand grabbed my arm and slowly pulled me up from the ground.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?”

I choked out some semblance of Tommy’s name before he wrapped me in a tight embrace. I could tell he understood, just by the way that he held me for that one moment. I had been selfish, thinking that only I took into consideration our circumstances of being. I was with him and he was with me, we were together and that was all that I had both wanted and feared. He laughed softly when he let me go, though neither of us moved from where we were.

“Are you as uncomfortable as you look? You don’t come off as the sweater type.”

“My mom picked out my outfit, actually,” I pushed at him playfully, feigning annoyance. “Hey, what did you expect? I didn’t have much time to find something better.”

“She did a nice job, then. I was just saying you don’t usually wear stuff like this. But that’s okay, that’s sort of the point of all this, I guess.”

The silence then was daunting, as I was unsure of what to say next. I wracked my brain to form a sentence, a question, a joke- anything to be able to improve this rocky situation.

“What do you look like?”

Tommy laughed nervously, unsure if I was being serious. “What?”

“Usually, I hate when people tell me what stuff looks like. But I want to know what you look like.”

“I’m not sure why that matters.”

“It doesn’t, it really doesn’t. I just want to know more about you, you know? I can tell that you’re pretty short, but everything else I know about you is just the way I see you. I see that you’re nice, since you took the time to come out here and talk to me, and you’re weird, but not in a bad way. You just have a strange sense of humor.”

“I didn’t come out here just to be nice. I’ve been looking for you all night but there are just so many people and you know how loud it is in there. I came out here because I really like you, Vincent. Why do you think I asked you to be my date? You’re hilarious, you’re really smart- I’m not talking about like school smart, but life smart. All these other kids think that this stuff is important, all these proms and homecomings and how many likes they got on a picture that they posted on Instagram. That stuff doesn’t matter, and you get that. I get that.” I felt his fingers loosely lace with mine, though I was mostly surprised that he didn’t hesitate or pull them away after feeling my cold and clammy hand; Tommy holding my hand felt awkward, of course, but it didn’t feel wrong. “If you really want to know what I look like, I’m not really short, you’re just a beanpole. My eyes actually are blue, I wasn’t making that joke for nothing. My hair is insane most of the time, I’d say it's about the same shade of black as your hair. My hair’s definitely not as cool as yours, though.”

I nodded at the words, though I wasn’t sure if I had been processing them properly. What I was processing, rather, was that somewhere along the way, that weight had been lifted. Some part of it was still there, as it would always be, but most of that weight had been shaken away voluntarily. However, I did pause when Tommy started to pull me back towards the school, pointing to the ground with my free hand. He bent over, somewhat pulling me with him as he didn’t let go of my hand, before pushing my glasses back onto my face crookedly.

I groaned as I picked them off and shoved them into my back pocket, blinking a few times as we slowly started making our way back to the building; I could hear the soft echoes of the music inside as the modern slow song changed into an upbeat rock song from the 1970s. I stifled out a yawn as the door opened in front of me, causing Tommy to laugh loudly.

“I haven’t gotten to dance with you yet, so you better not be getting tired on me, Vince.”

“Of course not.”

Though my yawn could have said otherwise, I was most certainly not tired. Tired of society, sure. I had lived, and still live, in a world that tells me that there are two things wrong with me. I had no choice with either of these things, yet society tells me that one of these things is worse than the other. In that moment, though, I didn’t feel as if I was any worse than the rest of the loud, jumpy teenagers in the gym. I might not be a normal person, especially at that moment, but I was content with the person that I was; in a way, I might have needed that feeling a bit more. That, and the warm hand of a certain baseball player, of course.


End file.
